


Bitter Sweet

by HighWarlockMegaraBane



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Glamour Springs sort of ptsd, Magnus comforts Taako, Mentions of Sazed - Freeform, PTSD, Taako has a lot of negativity in one tiny little head, Taako has a tiny little breakdown, first chapter isn't happy, i like tormenting my poor characters, no betas we die like men, second chapter will be kinda happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighWarlockMegaraBane/pseuds/HighWarlockMegaraBane
Summary: “I don’t make you food because I want you alive!” Taako finally shouted, clutching the bag. A long stripe of filling sprayed over the table. “Is that what you want to hear? Because—godsdammit—” Taako gulped for air. “Because the last time I shared my cooking I killed forty people!”Misery loves company, but Taako hates both. Glamour Springs really left an impression on him, and it's not a habit easily broken, even when Magnus is willing to help him.
Relationships: Magnus Burnsides & Taako
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Bitter Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am back with my second TAZ fic!
> 
> I'm a slut for some good good angst.
> 
> Only a two-parter! I have other WIPs that I need to focus on too.

Taako was dancing in the kitchen, Fantasy Beach Boys blaring over the speakers, and enjoying life. It had been far too long since he’d been in a proper kitchen, and the ones on the moon base did _not_ disappoint.

They had _seven kinds of paprika._ Seven! Who the _hell_ needs that much paprika?

(Taako from TV does, that’s for fuckin’ sure.)

Taako ducked into the oven and pulled out a long tray, immediately popping one of the fluffy macaron cookies into his mouth.

_Hachi machi._

Exhaling as he chewed, mouth wide open like a cow, he shook the tray and let the cookies ( _del-i-cate-ly)_ slide onto the cooling rack. One rolled, bounced, and almost hit the floor, but with a quick prestidigitation it levitated back onto the rack beside its brethren.

It was the first time he’d been behind an oven since Glamour Springs. He was on his third tray of macarons so far, as the first had been (maybe, in hindsight, a little hastily) thrown in the trash, after he’d thrown up from anxiety. The second had also been thrown in the trash, but one cookie had been fished out and, after another round of dry-heaving, shoved into his mouth.

_If it kills anyone, it’s going to be me._

Nearly two hours later, Taako was sitting on the counter, decidedly not dead, and it had given him the balls to make a third tray, which he was determined to finish this time.

“These are fuckin’ flawless,” he now sang to himself, running a hand down a braid and twisting one of his many earrings. “Hmm, except you, darling,” he sighed, picking up one that had cracked during baking. “Unfortunately, you must be sacrificed. You will be remembered.” And he ate that one too.

_These seem to be okay too. I feel okay. That’s good._

Technically, the kitchens were closed for the day, but simple combination locks were child’s play for Taako’s skill. (Mage hand didn’t hurt either.) He thought he’d cast a Lock on the door—he hoped he had—but had more important things to do than check that.

Distantly, the bell tower chimed one a.m. Taako yawned. _I should get back soonish so I can get some sleep. It’s been a while since we’ve gone on a mission—we’ll probably get one soon._

Candlenights was fast approaching, and it had been about a month since they’d gotten back from Goldcliff. Taako had woken up this night from another nightmare about Sloane and Hurley, and when another meditation (which he was so good at any more it could even be considered sleep) had seemed about as appetizing as pissing on his own face, he had come out for a walk.

_I need to think about Candlenights gifts,_ Taako sighed to himself, staring at the Candlenights shrub that sat at the far corner of the kitchen. _What am I good at besides cooking?_ His gaze drifted to the trash can, filled with blue cookies. _Fuck, I’m barely even good at that anymore. I haven’t been good at that for years._

As he pondered, Fantasy Beach Boys’ Candlenights album began to play as if summoned by his musings.

“Fantasy Alexa, play anything but this,” he asked aloud, and settled for Fantasy Fall Out Boy when they came on. “I guess this’ll do.” He turned his attention to the cookies, his ears relaxing so they almost touched his shoulder blades. “Are you cool yet, darlings? Daddy needs a snack.”

He was halfway through meticulously piping filling, sticking cookies together, and setting them aside when a familiar voice behind him said, “I wondered where you’d gone to.”

_Oh, so I guess I did forget the Lock._

Taako jumped so hard the piping bag slipped from his hand and he bashed his elbow on the corner of the steel table.

“Fantasy _Christ!_ ” he shouted, bending over so his forehead touched the table while he clutched his elbow. Twin golden braids fell to either side of his face. “Gods above, Magnus, what the holy _fuck?_ ”

“I thought you heard me come in,” the fighter chuckled, coming to the elf’s side. He touched a big hand to his tiny shoulder, which the elf expertly rolled away from. “Are you alright?”

Taako sighed, straightening up and examining his elbow. “Taako’s good, bubbelah, that just hurt like a motherfucker.” He picked the piping bag up and retrieved the cookie he had dropped. It was miraculously unharmed. “Did I wake you when I left? I would have thought that Merle’s snoring covered for me.”

“No, that’s what woke me up.” Magnus leaned against the counter. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Whatcha making?”

“Macarons,” Taako said absently, examining his perfect swirl of filling. _I’ve still got it._ “I haven’t made them in a while.”

“Hmm, well, don’t mind if I do.”

He was so preoccupied that he almost missed Magnus taking a finished cookie from the tray, and before Taako could grab it back he opened his mouth to pop it in.

_There were forty—_

He thrust out a hand and shouted, “Mage hand!”

The shout was enough to startle Magnus, giving the blue hand just enough time to snatch the innocent cookie and fling it to the floor. It cracked into two pieces and slid under a nearby cabinet.

“What the hell?” Magnus demanded, voice high and wounded. “I wanted that, Taako!”

“No.” The same mage hand grabbed up the plate of finished cookies and slid them far away from the fighter, way to Taako’s other side. Thankfully, the blue ethereal hand was steady although Taako’s mind was not. _I should throw these away too._ “Absolutely not. I—” He swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry, pumpkin, but I don’t cook for people.”

“What? Why not?” Magnus crossed his arms, still eyeing up the plate that now sat far out of his reach. “You’re a fantastic cook.”

_No, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not—_

Taako didn’t realize he was shaking his head until the chains on his various ear cuffs rattled.

“You had a show!”

_“Hello, Glamour Springs!”_

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Taako muttered, picking up another cookie. Almost immediately, he dropped it again. His fingers weren’t working properly…

“You’re Taako, from TV,” Magnus pressed. “Aren’t you?”

_“I’ll be making my fabulous 30 Garlic Clove Chicken, and you all get a chance to sample it!”_

“Leave it,” he said, only an iota louder. His hands were shaking on the piping bag.

“ _Sizzle It Up with Taako_ , staring the famous Taako!” He frowned. “You never cook for us—”

_“Something’s wrong, Sazed, we have to go—”_

“Magnus.” It was his last fucking warning. _Please leave me alone._

“—but all you talk about is how much you loved it, and now I want to sample something you’ve made—”

_“Sazed?”_ _but the wagon was empty and there were tears on his—_

“I don’t make you food because I want you alive!” Taako finally shouted, clutching the bag. A long stripe of filling sprayed over the table. “Is that what you want to hear? Because—godsdammit—” Taako gulped for air. “Because the last time I shared my cooking _I killed forty people!_ ”

The silence was almost more awful than Magnus’s badgering. Taako turned away from him under the guise of reaching for a towel.

“Fantasy Alexa, stop,” Taako muttered, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye. _God, if I cry right now, I’ll never forgive myself. He’ll never let me live it down. Taako does not cry. Over anything, or anyone. At all. Period. Wow, I’m glad I’m not wearing makeup._

“Taako, is that why _Sizzle It Up_ ended?”

He picked up the towel he’d been using to clean up the milk he spilled earlier. Without looking at Magnus, he began to wipe up the filling. He didn’t say anything.

_Why didn’t I taste it? I always taste everything I’m cooking._

_It had to be the elderberry. That was the mistake._

_I killed them all._

_None of them went home because of me._

“…ko?”

_That’s what it was, the elderberry-to-nightshade, that’s all that makes sense._

_Why didn’t I taste it?_

_I should have tasted it, why didn’t I taste it?_

“Taako?” Magnus’s voice finally cut through the haze at the front of Taako’s brain, and _there_ was the anger that was finally overtaking his shaking, mind-numbing tears. At least anger was easier to control. Anger had an outlet. Anger was directional, and outwardly so.

“Shut _up_ , for—for once,” Taako snapped, balling up the towel and flinging it at the sink. It hit the edge of the basin and dropped to the floor. “You talk so—so damn _much_.”

Taako didn’t talk about his feelings to anyone. He had already been alone, been abandoned more times than he’d like to admit; he didn’t need to go through that again. Better to just keep your mouth shut. Then they won’t have an excuse. _Push them away before they shut you out._

“Please talk to me.” Magnus’s eyes were wide, but he made no move toward or away from the elf. “What happened?”

Taako laughed derisively. “Fuck _off!_ I haven’t told you all this entire time we’ve been adventuring together—what makes you think I’m going to tell you now, dumbass?” His voice soared. “I don’t talk about my feelings and I _certainly_ don’t talk about my fucking _baggage!_ ”

Magnus was quiet for so long that Taako finally looked back at him. He was frowning slightly and his brows were together in a tight knot. He looked— _devastated._ He looked like a puppy that Taako had just kicked.

“I hate you,” Taako snapped. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I told you about my wife,” Magnus said softly, “because I trust you. And I want people to remember her, even if I die. Julia deserves that. I know it’s not the same—neither of us are who we were before whatever happened that drove us to adventuring—but I want you to know that you can tell me. You can…be _vulnerable_ with me.”

“Darling, I would have thought you’d have known this by now, but Taako doesn’t do ‘ _vulnerable_ ’.” The elf shook his head as if to clear it. His jewelry rattled like wind chimes. _Calm down._ “All you have to know is that people don’t eat my cooking. That’s it. End of fucking story.”

Magnus exhaled slowly. “You talk about it when you meditate.”

Taako froze, his blood running cold. That was his most common nightmare, reliving that day, that incident, that cost him his career. He often woke up in a cold sweat, thinking about what he should have done differently. He knew that recipe better than his cantrips—he went over it at least twice every day. _Garlic, chicken, salt, paprika, black pepper, onions, olive oil, just a little bit of steak seasoning to bring all of it together, elderberry sauce with just a little bit of garnish._

“That’s ridiculous,” Taako tried to laugh, but it was pinched to his own ears. He was getting lightheaded. “I don’t talk in my trances.”

“The town was called Glamour Springs, wasn’t it?”

Hearing the name said aloud brought a fresh wave of panic over him, and he pressed a hand to his mouth to hide the way his traitorous lip was quivering. His ears dropped low. Magnus’s figure swam in front of him and he turned away, spinning on the heel of his boot. His twin braids whipped at his face as he swung.

“I’m sure if I looked it up, I could find out what happened,” Magnus continued, still in that _infuriatingly slow, gentle way_ that he had, “but I haven’t. I wanted you to tell us. I didn’t want to go behind your back about it.”

“I guess you won’t drop it until I do, huh?” he snapped, trying to force as much venom into his voice as he could muster. Magnus didn’t move. Taako sneered to himself. _Dammit, dammit, dammit…_

“There isn’t anything to tell,” Taako muttered after a long pause. “Nothing that a quick Fantasy Internet search won’t tell you. _Sizzle It Up_ stopped in Glamour Springs, I—I made a chicken dish I know like the back of my hands, I did something wrong, messed—poisoned the food—the garnish—nightshade instead of elderberry and—and it killed everyone in the audience.” He palmed his cheeks, which were alarmingly wet. “And thus, ended the reign of—Executive Chef Taako.”

“Taako, I—I’m so sorry,” Magnus murmured, sounding distressed. Taako rubbed at his eyes. _Why the fuck am I crying?_

“And then”—the words were coming now, despite his subconscious shrieking at them to stop, but they wouldn’t. It was much like a shattered dam, releasing the torrent of water behind—“Sazed drove and I just f-fell apart—in the stagecoach. For like, fuck, like two days. A-And we stopped in—outside of some stupid—farm town, and I fell asleep—asleep, for once, not even a trance—next to Sazed, and he was gone when I woke up.

“He couldn’t have been much more—much clearer—who would want to stick around with a murderer?” Taako fought down a retch, and covered it with a despairing, high laugh. “And I guess that goes for you, now, too, but that’s fine, Taako’s good on—on his own.” His voice broke on the last word and he took a shuddering inhale. “It’s—I’m used to it.”

Taako wrapped his arms around himself and bowed forward, his long nails digging into the tender flesh of his sides. He bit down a choked sound, refusing to let it leave his throat. _If I puke right now, my macarons will have gone to waste. Oh no, it’ll be blue. Oh gods, don’t think about that. That makes it worse. Stop CRYING, dammit! You fucking useless—_

Magnus’s warm hands grabbed his shoulders gently, startling him so much that his thought train shuddered to a halt. He started to step away, but before he could, the fighter grabbed him around his chest in a bear hug.

“Bad touch, bad touch, bad touch,” Taako shouted, wrestling to free his arms. “What the fuck did you get on your strength roll? Let me go, bad touch, uncle, banana, what the _fuck is the safe word for this?_ ” He kicked wildly, Magnus’s upper body strength the only thing holding him in the air. “I _will_ burn a spell slot on you, don’t think I won’t! I give no shits!”

“Taako.” His voice was soft. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Taako stopped kicking, dangling as he crossed his legs underneath him. “Don’t say that, you giant sap.” His heart was in his throat. “Put me _down._ ”

“I mean it,” Magnus insisted. His grip relaxed and Taako let his feet touch the ground again. “Whether or not it was your fault—and you’re such a competent wizard that I don’t believe it was—”

“Taako doesn’t need the ego stroke,” he cut in, anger rising again.

“But you’ve clearly learned to be more careful with your spells and transmutations,” Magnus continued, releasing him and stepping away. He wasn’t smiling for once, but he didn’t seem upset. Taako was plagued with suspicion. _Wish I knew Zone of Truth_. “I trust you with my life, Taako. This doesn’t—it doesn’t change that.”

Taako inhaled slowly, and then exhaled just as slowly. _I need to get my fucking emotions under control. There’s no reason for you to fall apart like this, dumbass. Hold your breath—count down from ten._

“Although your choice for the mongoose mask in Goldcliff does make a lot more sense now,” the fighter added.

_Put the mask back on._ Taako rubbed one eye. “I’m—sorry I kept this from you.”

“I understand why you did.” He nodded. “But I really do think that you have nothing to worry about. If you were an incompetent schlep of a wizard I would be more inclined to distrust you, but everyone makes mistakes!”

_Not mistakes that kill dozens of innocents._

“Sure, big guy,” he said instead.

“So…” He tapped his fingers together. “Could I have—”

“No,” Taako interrupted, scowling. “This whole conversation was to tell you why I don’t share my cooking! I’m not going to give you one now.”

Magnus pouted, but seemed to give in. He reached out to touch the wizard’s shoulder, and he stiffened but held his ground. _Don’t patronize me._

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he continued with a bright smile. “Your cookies seem fine!”

_So did the chicken._

“Maybe they are, fella.” Taako started to stack them up where they’d been disturbed by their hasty retreat. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

His eyes lit up hopefully. “You feel better? More confident?”

“Sure do, pal.” Taako gave him a prize-winning smile that was _absolutely_ forced. “I don’t even know why I was worried in the first place.”

“Good! I’m so glad! Do you want to come back to the dorm?” Magnus yawned behind a big hand. “I am _exhausted_.”

“Go on, then; I gotta clean up here, first.” Taako turned his back. “I don’t want to leave it a mess for whoever makes breakfast. Don’t wait up, darling—I might be a while.”

“Sounds good.” Magnus headed back toward the door he came in, one last longing glance thrown at the cookie plate. Taako raised his eyebrows at him.

“Down, boy,” he joked, and with one last grumble, the fighter left. Taako, now left in the silence, glanced around himself at the state he’d left the kitchen in. First thing he did was fish out the cookie he’d knocked from Magnus’s hand, dropping it into the trash.

He spent a long hour doing dishes, cleaning counters, taking trash out, not caring what Fantasy Alexa played as long as it filled the silence. He couldn’t even _begin_ to piece together the wreck his mind was left in, or put words to the emotions that brewed there, screaming like incessant cats.

Soon, all that was left was the plate of neatly stacked macaron cookies. Taako picked one up, breaking it in half and examining the way the cookie barely crumbled into the filling. They were delicious now—they would be even better frozen. It was some of his finest work.

He set the cookie back onto the plate and made sure his plating was perfect. He hit most of the lights, and was on his way out the door when he stopped, dug the heel of his hand into his forehead, and reentered the kitchen.

Without looking, he tipped the plate and spilled all of his cookies into the newly cleaned trash bin, tossed the dish carelessly onto the counter, and left. The door slammed behind him with a bang.


End file.
